Of Orbs and Cats
by tsunami-blader
Summary: this story is somewhat my own continuation of JK Rowling's story from where it left off. Voldemort will come back, as usual and there will be new twists you can expect. stay tuned. but beware, updates won't occur so soon. so bear with it


"NOOOOOOO! YOU CAN KILL ME, BUT SPARE THE CHILD!" An evil cackle was heard, followed by a deathly whisper. "Avada Kedavra." A jet of green light shot from the wand.  
  
Harry sat up abruptly in bed, panting. The familiar searing of his scar had returned yet again. His scar throbbed relentlessly. He lifted a hand and gingerly poked the scar. The pain seemed to get worse with his touch, a characteristic he never noticed before.  
  
"I will NOT be enslaved to pain." Harry said aloud. Uncle Vernon grunted in the next room. Harry had been hearing all sorts of strange editions of his mother's death being replayed in his dreams. The frustration of living with the Dursleys, coupled with Sirius' death and funny dreams were becoming too much to handle. "This is it. I'm getting a Pensieve from Diagon Alley before school reopens!" He muttered. Sitting at the writing desk, he slammed a few Potions books and parchment along with quills on it.  
  
"I'll GET YOU, BOY!" A bellow erupted from the next room. Harry became silent immediately. Soon, Uncle Vernon grunted and went back to sleep. "Phew!" Harry thought. He really should begin to control his emotions. "A Pensieve would be a great help." Harry said. Just then, Hedwig soared through the open bedroom window with a dead rat clamped in her beak.  
  
"Now it's you. Finally, some mail, eh?" Hedwig gave Harry a reproachful look and hooted, her beak full of dead rat. Harry untied the letter from her outstretched leg and she proceeded to toss the rat into her open cage.  
  
"Dear Harry, Why don't you come over to the Burrow on the 30th of July? You could celebrate your birthday with us for once, its much better than spending yet another boring one with those rotten Muggles. If they won't let you, just hex them!  
Ron and Hermione"  
  
"Just hex them? You're making it sound too easy, Ron. One more time and I could get expelled! If only that stupid flying Ford Anglia were still with us." Harry said. The thought of Ron and Hermione having a ball of a time at the Burrow without him was torturous. Harry shut his books and jumped onto his bed, toying with the various outcomes should the Weasleys come to fetch him.  
  
The next morning, Harry was munching on his plain bread (the others were having buttered toast) when he decided to mention it. "Uncle Vernon, do you think it'd be possible to let me go to the Weasleys on the 30th? You won't have to see me again until the next year!" Harry said brightly.  
  
"Those ruddy owl-loving creatures in clothes fit to clean a cat's litter box are going to turn up on our doorstep again? NEVER!" Uncle Vernon roared.  
  
"Look, I promise I'll send them a letter and tell them to turn up in at least a decent cab and human clothes, all right? I promise they'll look perfectly normal!" Harry said.  
  
"What makes you think I'll believe you?" Uncle Vernon sneered.  
  
"If I cleaned up your garden for you every day, how about that?" Harry said.  
  
"Not good enough." Uncle Vernon snorted.  
  
"The garage." Harry bargained.  
  
"It's a deal. Provided that you don't step over the line this week, your ruddy owl-loving friends can come and get you." Uncle Vernon's face seemed to be turning purple and was contorted as though he was experiencing great discomfort.  
  
"All right, I promise I'll keep to the deal." Harry said, tight- lipped. Harry stuffed the last piece of his dry toast into his mouth and ran up to his room.  
  
He couldn't believe it. Uncle Vernon had never let him off so easily. Aunt Petunia and Dudley hadn't even breathed a word during the whole bargain! Harry sat down and hastily scribbled a note to Ron and Hermione.  
  
"Dear Ron and Hermione, You won't believe this! Uncle Vernon actually said I could go if I cleaned up his garage and garden every day! Tell you what, on the 30th, get a muggle cab and come to 4 Privet Drive at about one in the afternoon. See you!  
Harry"  
  
Harry tied the letter to Hedwig's leg and set her off. He flopped onto bed and began daydreaming of how much better life would be and the prospects of having his FIRST ever humanely celebrated birthday. Other than being treated like regular dirt on his birthday, he knew no other birthdays.  
  
"BOY! GET DOWN HERE! YOU KEEP YOUR PART OF THE DEAL, I KEEP MINE! MOVE IT! GO ON!" Uncle Vernon bellowed from the breakfast table.  
  
Harry leapt out of bed and went down to the garage. "Eurrgh! This place smells like its been doused with oil!" He exclaimed.  
  
"Of course. Take a look over there. Happy cleaning up!" Dudley said from behind Harry.  
  
Harry scanned the dusty cement floor and saw a pool of petrol flowing from a large overturned bottle. Dudley turned and waddled off in the direction of the house. Harry crept off behind him and peered into the kitchen window. Sure enough, Harry saw Dudley sidle away from Aunt Petunia with a chunk of chocolate cake and a crisp new fifty dollar bill clenched in his ham-like fist.  
  
Sighing, Harry returned to the mundane task of cleaning up the petrol with a rag and scrubbing the greasy floor clean. "Just as I expected. He's getting paid to make life miserable for the last week of the holidays I'm spending here." For the rest of the 3 hours he spent in the garage, Harry occupied his mind with thoughts of a grand birthday cake and actually hearing Ron and Hermione sing a birthday song beside him. This of course, made the job twenty times easier.  
  
For the next two weeks, Harry spent almost the whole day but mealtimes in the garden or garage. Dudley of course, was proving the fifty dollars worth by emptying the trash on the garden just after Harry was done raking leaves, bringing a friend's dog over to answer the call of nature in the garage and so on and so forth. Harry began to wonder why he had even agreed to Uncle Vernon's terms.  
  
Soon, the day for the Weasleys to come and pick him arrived. It was eight in the morning and Harry had just woken up for breakfast. He had packed his school trunk the night before and lugged it down to the living room before sitting down to breakfast. "Those owl-loving fools are coming at nine aren't they?" Uncle Vernon said, trying to sound utterly disgusted.  
  
"Yes, in a mug-...no I mean, regular London cab and perfectly normal clothes." Harry replied, suppressing the excitement in his voice.  
  
After a rather unsatisfactory breakfast which considered of dry bread crusts cut off from everyone's bread, Harry sat down on the sofa and waited. The Weasleys arrived ten minutes later.  
  
Uncle Vernon and Dudley were in their suits while Aunt Petunia's bony frame was stuffed into a shrunken polka-dotted dress which accentuated her bones even further. Uncle Vernon stomped to the front door and grabbed the doorknob before turning it and yanking the door open. A nervous-looking balding Arthur Weasley stood on the doormat together with Mrs Weasley and Ron. He stretched out a quivering hand and said, "Hi, I'm Arthur and I'm here to take Harry. May I come in?"  
  
A positively shell-shocked Uncle Vernon turned his beefy body sideways to allow Mr Weasley to edge past (though I must add that it didn't help much). "Hi Harry, I guess we shall be going now." Mr Weasley hoisted Harry's school trunk onto his shoulder and brushed past Uncle Vernon, whose face was a blotchy purple and contorted with fury. Of course, Uncle Vernon's fury was at the Weasleys' apparent ability to come in normal Muggle clothes and in a proper Muggle taxi. He seemed to swell up with anger as he watched Harry and the Weasleys pile into the taxi and drive off. He then slammed the door with such great force that the small panes of glass at the top of the door fell out.  
  
"So, Harry, how's your summer been? By the way, happy 16th birthday!" Ron said brightly.  
  
"It's been really really fun, Ron. Thanks for the birthday wish." Harry retorted sarcastically.  
  
"Oh, ok. Silly question wasn't it." Ron tried to laugh it off.  
  
All at once, Harry's anger at Ron seemed to abate. He'd been longing to see him all summer and shouldn't have done that to Ron. An uneasy silence fell over the taxi as no one tried to make constructive conversation.  
  
"Hi Harry, we haven't seen you for ages!" Mrs Weasley let out a high- pitched, jolly laugh. "We'll be going back to the Burrow now as the Order of Phoenix will only be called back if there's a meeting or a specific need." Mrs Weasley explained.  
  
"Oh really? That's nice." Harry said weakly. Frankly speaking, he wasn't very interested in what the order was doing since they'd kept close to everything from him. Even his best friends were made to swear not to tell him a thing. Harry sighed.  
  
"Oh there we are, we've reached the Burrow!" Mr Weasley said.  
  
The driver didn't just stop there. He drove into the garage of the Burrow before turning off the engine. Suddenly, the car rattled and its interior transformed from that of a Muggle taxi to that of a small Ford Anglia. Harry, who was thoroughly surprised by now, stepped out of the car to find that the driver was Charlie Weasley. "Clever, isn't it? I bewitched the car to change its appearance. It definitely beat having to get a real Muggle cab didn't it?" Charlie beamed.  
  
"Of course, we just got this second hand Ford Anglia off another Ministry colleague." Mr Weasley said heartily.  
  
"That's why I actually could mention the Order of Phoenix so casually in the car you know." Mrs Weasley said.  
  
"Of course. Shall we enter the house?" Harry said, feeling exhilarated at finally being with the Weasleys and Hermione.  
  
The Weasleys and Harry trooped into the house where an excited Pigwidgeon began to zoom around their heads. Seconds later, Hermione appeared and gave Harry a rib-cracking hug before Hedwig soared down onto his shoulder.  
  
"Happy birthday, Harry!!" Hermione said. She thrust a giant box of Honeydukes sweets and chocolates (two of every kind) into Harry's arms.  
  
"Why, thank you Hermione! And of course, Ron too. These must have cost a bomb!" Harry looked stunned.  
  
Then Mrs Weasley came in with a brand new scarlet jumper with small 16 weaved onto the sleeve. "Sweet sixteen now, Harry!" Mrs Weasley grinned. Before he knew it, all the Weasleys (including Ginny, who blushed a deep beetroot red) had thrust their presents into Harry's overloaded arms. Harry said all his thank you's and climbed the stairs slowly and carefully with the mountain of presents tottering above his head.  
  
"Hey Ron, look! Fred and George's first batch of Skiving Snackboxes!" Harry said excitedly.  
  
"Cool. But I don't think you'd use them would you?" Ron replied rather icily. He was a Prefect and an aspiring Head-Boy-to-be you know.  
  
"Who knows, maybe I'd need them to escape from Voldemort." Harry tried to joke.  
  
Ron, of course, did not think it was the least bit funny. "Harry, look. Voldemort's not a joking matter." Ron said, rather scalded.  
  
"Ron, just give me a break and stop being such a prude. You have no idea what I had to clean up just because Dudley was given 50 bucks." Harry retorted.  
  
Ron replied with an icy silence. Harry squirmed uncomfortably and decided to leave the room. He cleared his throat and excused himself, saying he had to settle his books and luggage. He thumped up the stairs and arranged his books on the limited space Ron's desk had before trying to start on an essay Snape had set them.  
  
His head was in a whirl. Why was he dreaming odd dreams and snapping at his best friends? They were the only people like family he'd ever known! His head erupted in a terrible headache that spread like wildfire, starting down his lightning shaped scar. "That cursed Voldemort. I wish he'd just die." At that moment, the pain intensified so much that Harry clutched his forehead and grovelled on the parquet flooring with a loud thump as he hit the ground.  
  
He soon heard footsteps pounding up the stairs with an air of urgency. The door flew open and Hermione crouched down beside him. "Harry, are you all right? Are you?" Hermione asked breathlessly.  
  
"Y.........Yeah, I'm good." Harry muttered. Harry's vision began to spot...and he blacked out. Just then, Ron burst in with a rather mixed expression on his face. "Oh dear, is Harry going to be all right?" Ron asked. Ron was beginning to regret his moment of pique and indifference towards Harry. Ron was wearing his all-too-familiar expression of fear and regret. In the meantime, Harry was taken back in time... to an unusually familiar scene. One that had been like a worn tape played over and over again... 


End file.
